The Dawn
by GoldenQuill7
Summary: "She murmured a spell in a language Arthur knew only by sound. The net expanded, then came rushing inwards, constricting to kill them all. Arthur shut his eyes tight and felt Guinevere's body move beside his, and pulled her close. There were screams, sobs, howls. Then there was a sound like a fire flaring, and the warmth of the dome was gone. He opened his eyes." Reveal oneshot.


_I'm procrastinating, and this happened. Not quite a songfic to Florence and the Machine's "Shake It Out" but it's something of a theme._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. I wish I owned it. Well, the knights. But I don't._

* * *

It was almost daybreak, but the courtyard was already alight. Fiery tendrils criss-crossed and interweaved to form a giant dome-shaped web around the occupants of the castle, who stood well away from the hot filaments for fear of being burned. Most of them were in their nightclothes, though some had managed to half-dress despite the urgency with which they had been woken. Morgana's appearance had been so rapid, executed in the earliest hours of morning, and all of them had been left reeling and unable to fight back against the army of animated corpses that she had enlisted to the task. Now, she circled the prison, watching them like a cat watches a flock of tiny birds.

"For so long, I've waited for this," her voice was barely a whisper "Months of planning… Years of hoping…"

Arthur stepped forward, as close to the dazzling filaments as he dared; he wore only a pair of trousers and a soft, white tunic, and felt naked facing such a formidable enemy without armour. His shoulders were drooped, heavy with the knowledge that there was no salvation for him and everyone he loved now. Morgana surveyed him expectantly. He had to try.

"At least let the others go," he croaked "Let them leave, spare them… You can do what you will with me, but let them go."

"So they can incite a rebellion and depose me the second you're dead?" she laughed high and cold, the sound almost enough to make Arthur cringe with its sharpness before a sudden silence and reversion to her initial icy demeanour "I think not, brother."

She stepped back a few paces, and raised her hands. The net flared, and Arthur stumbled backwards with alarm, finding Guinevere's hand and squeezing it, unwilling to show fear in these last moments. Morgana's smile was barely discernible through the waves of heat and bright orange glare around them, and all was silent for a moment.

She murmured a spell in a language Arthur knew only by sound.

The net expanded, then came rushing inwards, constricting to kill them all.

Arthur shut his eyes tight and felt Guinevere's body move beside his, and he pulled her close. There were screams, sobs, howls. Then there was a sound like a fire flaring, and the warmth of the dome was gone.

He opened his eyes.

Everything was blue. It took him a few seconds to realise that a second dome had formed inside Morgana's prison – electric blue, but not as bright as the fire that had incarcerated them. It was the only barrier between their lives and their deaths, and someone inside was conjuring it.

He wheeled around amidst exclamations and confusion, to see a tall, hooded figure not far from him with hands outstretched, clearly supporting the magical shield that was saving their lives. With a push of his hands, the stranger threw Morgana's enchantment completely, pushing it outwards as the strands shattered into embers that drifted in the breeze.

Morgana shrieked in frustration, sending a bolt of what looked like red lightning at the figure, who deflected it with almost mundane ease as he approached the sorceress. Arthur was rooted to the spot, transfixed; he had not seen an unfamiliar face among them as they were rounded up by Morgana's army of wraiths, gone now that they had fulfilled their purpose.

"Who are you?" she demanded, holding her ground obstinately.

"An old acquaintance."

"_Tell me!_"

"I have defeated you before, Morgana," the figure's voice was hoarse, foreign to Arthur "And it has been written that I will do so again."

"Emrys," she breathed, finally taking a step backward. She was clearly nervous, and despite not knowing who this 'Emrys' was, Arthur found himself grateful that he was not on her side.

"I am many things Morgana. I _am_ Emrys. I am the most powerful sorcerer who has ever lived. Who will ever live. I am the last Dragonlord. I have fought the Sidhe and won – twice. I am the protector of the future kingdom of Albion. I vanquished the sorceress Nimueh. I have scryed in the Crystal Cave. I have defended this kingdom, this city, and these people time and again, and ensured your failings more times than you or they will ever know."

The hooded man's voice, which had been rising in volume and emotion as this tirade went on, grew soft. He reached for the ties of his cloak, and in one motion, pulled the hood from his head and threw the garment aside, his arms now free to rise in Morgana's direction with an unmistakeable unspoken threat.

It was Merlin.

"And I will be your brother's ally – and friend - until the day I die."

Stunned and speechless, Morgana was completely still for a moment, before being blasted off her feet and backwards onto the hard, cold cobbles of the courtyard. With a hiss, she sat up, eyes already a fiery gold. The few swords that had been brought out by the knights suddenly flew from their sheaths, and sped towards Merlin point-first.

Unwavering, Merlin spun around and roared words in an incomprehensible tongue, and the swords glowed and changed shape into shards of ice, which promptly fell to the ground and shattered. With another flourish of his hands, Merlin forced the shattered pieces to regroup into a huge circle, which he hurled at Morgana like a lethal discus.

Now standing, his adversary conjured a wall of flames that melted the ice swiftly, before transfiguring her creation into a giant fiery serpent which slithered towards Merlin, now standing completely alone.

A numb Arthur had been pulled back to the edge of the court by Percival and Leon, who now watched the duel equally transfixed. His mind could not process what his eyes were seeing, and it was as if he were watching a scene from his own imagination. As if it was all in his head; Guinevere, wide eyes and hands clutching at his arm; Gwaine, hands flexing in and out of fists as though he were itching to join the magical fray; Leon, leaning against a pillar because his shaking legs would not support him; Percival, mouth set in a hard line; Elyan, mouth agape and gasping at each new assault; Gaius, solemn and stern, whispering to himself.

Merlin stretched a hand to the sky, and a whirlwind descended from the clear sky, sucking the serpent upwards before sending Morgana herself flying high into the air... Before she landed, however, she roared an incantation, and disappeared in a flurry of dust.

The wind died.

All was still.

With a huge sigh, Merlin turned slowly. He looked different, somehow; the gangly, cheerful servant had been replaced with a tall, imposing warlock. His clothes and face were the same, but something inside him had shifted, and all of them knew it.

Unbidden, the words of his speech floated into Arthur's mind.

_I am Emrys. I am the most powerful sorcerer who has ever lived. Who will ever live._

And Arthur had spent years accusing him of being useless and talentless.

_I am the last Dragonlord. _

And Arthur had watched as he held his dying father in his arms, then slain the last dragon.

_I am the protector of the future kingdom of Albion. _

And Arthur had not even permitted him a seat at the Round Table.

_I have defended this kingdom, this city, and these people time and again, and ensured your failings more times than you or they will ever know._

And Arthur had called him a coward countless times.

_And I will be your brother's ally – and friend - until the day I die._

And with a blank look, Merlin turned and calmly walked away, crossing the courtyard to the far passage.

"Go to him," Guinevere whispered, squeezing his hand. Arthur looked down at her; her eyes were full of unshed tears, but she did not cry. Touching a hand to her cheek, he nodded. With a final look at the sombre party, all of whom looked as lost as he felt, he followed Merlin's path.

He could hear his footsteps ahead of him; the passage was only half-lit, as the torches were out and the sun had not yet risen. This corridor opened onto one of the battlements, and as Arthur walked on, he realised that Merlin was heading towards one of the old training grounds.

Arthur felt a surge of fury and resentment as he walked; why did it have to be Merlin? The one person who had never lied to him, betrayed him. The one person he had always trusted. So long, and so many lies. A sorcerer. A Dragonlord. Merlin had inherited that ability, had practiced magic under his nose, and had justified his actions with fate. Arthur could not reconcile magic and goodness in his own mind –_ and yet Merlin had saved them all with it_. It was too much to take in, too much conflict, too much new information at odds with everything he had ever known. His stride grew aggressive, and anger bubbled up inside his throat, ready to be unleashed in a livid rant the second he found his manservant.

The morning air was chilly when he emerged on the eastern side of the castle, halting abruptly when he saw Merlin sitting on the retaining wall, facing out to the horizon. For a man who had looked so commanding just moments before, Merlin looked forlorn now.

… And suddenly, it struck Arthur that perhaps Merlin had had as little power over his destiny as Arthur had over his own.

With a deep breath, he started forward. A twitch of Merlin's head told him that his approach was noted, but he did not make eye contact. He simply waited, and Arthur eventually sat down next to him.

There was a long silence as they both looked out to the horizon.

"How long?" Arthur's voice was soft, no trace of harshness in his tone. They still did not look at each other.

"All my life."

Arthur glanced at him, but he was met with Merlin's solemn profile. He turned back to the lightening horizon.

"So you're…"

"A warlock, yes... I've never had to study sorcery but… It has helped to do so." Merlin added the last comment sheepishly. Arthur let out a deep breath through his nose.

"You've been studying magic books all this time?"

"Not _all_ this time… Only since my third or fourth day in Camelot"

Arthur fought the urge to smile – the humour was the same, even if Merlin was now a virtual stranger.

"So all of that about saving my life…" he prompted, still keeping his tone controlled, despite his emotions flying everywhere at once.

"Yes."

"Ah."

There was another pause before curiosity got the better of Arthur.

"How many times?"

Merlin snorted.

"More than I can count."

Another pause.

"Take a guess?"

This time, out of the corner of Arthur's eye, he saw Merlin smile.

"I want to say fewer than a hundred," he said, with the tiniest hint of smugness "But I would be lying."

"You're not serious."

"Try me."

"The dragon." The words were out of Arthur' mouth before he even thought about it – since the comment about being a Dragonlord, the thought had sprung up in the back of his mind and refused to budge.

"I told him to leave and never return,"

Arthur groaned.

"It's still _alive_?"

"Yes. And it's a 'he'. And his name is Kilgharrah."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing.

"I suppose you also warded off the wyverns in the Perilous Lands?"

"And that time on the Isle of the Blessed..."

"Right. Nimueh?"

"Me… After saving you from the Questing Beast bite."

"The immortal army?"

"Me."

"The times when branches have conveniently fallen—"

"Me."

"Agravaine?"

"Me."

"Valiant?"

"Er, You…"

"_Merlin…_"

"And a bit of me, yes."

Arthur groaned and put his face in his hands.

"Have I ever done anything?"

"Of course you have," Merlin replied kindly, and it struck Arthur how odd the casualness of this conversation was "I just… helped."

_Only trying to help._

"Arthur?"

"Did you know the sorcerer who tried to heal my father?"

Merlin was silent, and when Arthur lifted his head, he saw that his friend had gone pale.

"Merlin, tell me."

"Believe me, it was Morgana's doing," Merlin whispered, suddenly sounding terrified "She placed a magical charm on Uther which reversed the effect of the healing magic."

Arthur took a moment to take this in, before nodding. Merlin looked at his hands. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible.

"It was me"

Arthur felt his eyes widen of their own accord, but said nothing.

"I was trying to heal him. But I didn't know about Morgana's magic, and by then it was too late. I put the poultice in your bed so that Gwen would be found innocent and set free… It me in disguise, but I never hurt anyone, I swear to you Arthur."

The use of Arthur's name sealed the conviction with which Merlin spoke.

"I believe you." Arthur said softly.

There was another lull in the conversation as each struggled with his own thoughts.

"I suppose I should say 'thank you'-" Arthur began, aware of how trite those two words were in comparison to Merlin's deeds.

"_That_ would be a first." Merlin deadpanned, cutting Arthur off and causing him to chuckle and even dare to elbow the skinnier man in the ribs. Merlin's grin was visible even out of the corner of Arthur's eye - for some reason he couldn't look at him, knowing the debt he now owed.

"You're taking this better than I thought you would." Merlin commented tentatively, rubbing his side and allowing the grin to fade.

"I'm pretty surprised myself." Arthur replied.

"I thought you'd be furious."

"I'm working up to it."

Merlin let out a bark of laughter, as both knew that Arthur had never had to work up to anger in his life. Arthur himself allowed himself to join in for a moment, before a sombre thought occurred to him.

"But really, Merlin… Why didn't you tell me? I've known you for nearly ten years, and now I feel like…" his voice was quiet now, all mirth gone "Like I don't know you at all."

Merlin bowed his head, his voice once again soft, sad.

"You're Uther's son. You hated anything to do with magic, and the only way I can protect you and Camelot is with magic. Even if you hadn't executed me—" Arthur winced "—You would have banished me, and I'm of no use away from here."

Arthur opened his mouth and closed it again. He honestly did not know whether, if under other circumstances, he would not have done those things. He would never have executed Merlin, not for anything – but in the wrong situation, he might have exiled him in a rage... He had his father to thank for that.

"I understand."

"It's my destiny to protect you, Arthur. And Camelot. To see that you unite Albion, and become the king you're meant to be. I've known that almost since the day I met you. Now you do, too."

"With magic?"

"With magic."

Merlin looked out to the city – the first rays of the day were beginning to gild the horizon in brilliant gold.

"You don't train here anymore."

Arthur was a little thrown by the remark, but responded nonetheless.

"Of course not. The layout of the field means the sun is in your eyes when you…"

_It's into the sun._

"Oh."

Merlin gave a wry smile. This was where they had first began, all those years ago, as a prince and a peasant. And it was here they began again as a king and an all-powerful sorcerer.

Arthur stood, and offered Merlin a hand. Merlin took it, standing as the sun broke over the horizon. Not letting go right away, Arthur shook it, as though they had only just met, and finally looked Merlin in the eye as he spoke.

"Old friend... We have work to do."

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_Reviews are much appreciated!_


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